


Comfort

by theychosefamily67



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-17
Updated: 2015-08-17
Packaged: 2018-04-15 04:42:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4593228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theychosefamily67/pseuds/theychosefamily67
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean coming to you after a fight with Sam — results in smut. Or vice versa since I think you prefer Sam smut ;) </p><p>Author’s Note: I think i’ve come to realize I’m no good at explicit smut, I’m better at writing implied smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comfort

I was woken out of a sound sleep by yelling and slamming doors. I sighed and rolled over, looking at the clock. Three in the morning and they were arguing again. I turned on my bedside lamp and crawled out of bed, rubbing my eyes. I opened the door to my room and they were down the hall, yelling, faces close to each other, hands raised. Not good. 

Suddenly Dean pushed Sam and that was all it took. Sam pushed Dean back and then they were fighting. Punching, yelling, shoving each other into the wall. I ran down the hall and wedged myself between them, grabbing the front of both of their shirts.

“Stop it! Stop it right fucking now!” I screamed at the top of my lungs.

They were both out of breath and staring at me before Dean walked off, storming down the hall to his room. His door slammed so hard the lights flickered.

“Are you crazy?” Sam asked. “We could have hurt you.”

“I knew you guys wouldn’t hurt me,” I shrugged. “Now come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

He followed me to my room and I led him into my bathroom and made him sit down on the toilet lid.

I grabbed a washcloth, running it under the cold water and held it to his lip. He hissed in pain and pulled back.

“Stop being a baby,” I said, pulling him towards me and putting the washcloth back where it had been.

He sighed and held it to his lip while I examined the cut over his eye.

“I don’t think you’ll need stitches, but you’re going to have a pretty good scar there.”

“S’alright, it’ll just match all my other scars,” he mumbled.

“What were you two fighting about this time?” I asked, putting my hand on his cheek.

“Something stupid,” he shook his head in disgust.

“Usually is,” I smiled.

He dropped the washcloth in the sink and wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me in between his legs, resting his cheek on my stomach.

I hugged him back, running my hands through his hair.

He moaned and said, “That feels good.” His hand crept around my waist and down my pajama shorts.

“Sam Winchester, what do you think you’re doing?” I said softly.

He pulled them down slowly, kissing my thighs as I stepped out of them. He ran his fingers up the inside of my thighs and I gasped and grabbed his hair.

He stood, picking me up and wrapping my legs around his waist.

“Let’s move in here where it’s more comfortable,” he hummed, carrying me to the bed.

I think I gave him a few new scars on his back with my fingernails that night.


End file.
